Patches and Stitches
by Sixelle of Fireyness
Summary: With not much detemination in her career, Aria goes off for a breather from tailoring, only to be involved in a mild accident. To make up for her mistake, she takes in the reluctant Oliver, hoping to design a great attire with his temporary assistance.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Patches and Stitches

**Rating: ** T (for safety)

**Summary: **With not much detemination in her career, Aria goes off for a breather from tailoring, only to be involved in a mild accident. To make up for her mistake, she takes in the reluctant Oliver, hoping to design a great attire with his temporary assistance.

**Notes****:** A lot of characters will appear in this fanfic, along with personal preferences in pairings. Story may feature utter weirdness, due to my attempt in being witty. You've been warned.

**Disclaimer:** Vocaloid does not belong to me, and it never will. I've gotten over it a long time ago.

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Sitting behind the desk, I looked over what was probably my greatest challenge ever.

"Stupid buttons. Why do I have to put you on, dang it?" With needle in hand, I slumped over the desk, holding the floral patterned cloth over my head. The buttons I had used scattered down to the floor.

"Aria…" The voice of a thousand demons spoke up from behind me. From the chill coming down on my back, I could speak as a living testament that the voice alone can make turn one into ice. "Quit goofing around and get to work."

Instead of wisely keeping my mouth shut, I spoke back, "It's not like work will be getting away from me anytime soon. Besides I don't you doing anything."

Those comments earned me a fist to the head from my boss, Zenyora Prima. Really, she's a nice person until you peeve her off, which I tend to do a lot. I don't know why. Something about her just makes me want to do that. I may have to think about putting an end to that habit, else I'll wake up in the hospital, probably with amnesia or head trauma.

After putting everything back in place, I got up from my seat.

"Where do you think you're going?" Prima immediately demanded from her seat in the back.

"Gonna check the catalogs for any ideas. I'm hitting a stump here."

"Just please don't end up copying something from the book like the last imbecile we hired."

"You know I won't do that." I snapped at her, obviously pissed. She held her hands out, her way of telling me she was backing off. I'm not particularly mean or anything, but while I'll admit I do face my shares of challenges in this job, I take it seriously. She knew that, it's why she hired me to work here in the first place. But, so I can reassure her that I wasn't losing my touch (and subsequently not get fired) I snatched up my current project and took it along with me.

In hindsight, I should have stayed put. I didn't really have to get up and go outside to clear my head. I already knew what the problem was. I just wouldn't confront it. My problem is I hated to put in buttonholes in the fabric I designed. The only reason I was able to complete most of my work is because I had the proper motivation back at home. My father supported me in my fashion pursuit, so in order to avoid disappointing him, and to ensure his faith in me is well-placed, I studied and created more representation of my art. Through those works, Prima found me, hired me and I found myself outside of the small childhood home.

The experience is brilliant, yes, but now I find no satisfaction in my work. Most of my works are far from finished and those fortunate to see completion we're far from pleasing to the sight. Perhaps I am losing my touch.

I leaned against the wall, taking out a pair of tailor scissors for some progress in my work. But no matter how well I envisioned the final project, my hands did not progress forward to make the thought a reality. Actually, now that I think about it, Prima must be aware of my dilemma. Otherwise, she wouldn't be acting so harsh with me. Good thing I went outside, otherwise she would have pummeled me.

Just to make sure she doesn't follow me outside and drag me back inside to end my life, I walked off. Maybe a good walk would clear my mind out. Before I do anything else, though, I should put away my scissors. I lifted out my arm in front of my body, taking in the sight of my greatest partners, checking it to make sure it was in proper condition. As a test run, I brought my fingers together, the clicking sound of snipping…

…signaling the scissor's cutting off a set of trousers.

My blue eyes widen out when my sight finally processed what I had done.

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"So let me get this straight. You were walking just outside of the store when, without you realizing it, you cut off the slacks of an innocent passer byer? Aria, are you kidding me?"

"Prima, do you not see the sight of these ruins pants?" I tugged at the sad sight before me. Clothes shouldn't be torn unless it was necessary, both by the hands of us tailors or the hands of time. I could just sob.

"Um, Miss… please, you're making my pants fall down."

The owner of the voice belonged to the new current guest of the shop, not to mention the victim of my clumsy move outside. I honestly felt bad for him. His pants were just too good to be cut. In a better condition than most trousers I've seen on people living under poor conditions in the city streets.

Actually, now that I look more closely, this boy looked pretty well dressed for a street urchin. Or maybe he's not a street urchin. I say he's well dressed, but his clothes were in good condition even if they were a bit dirty. His skin was in a far worse condition, to say the least, like he hadn't showered in days. He wasn't even wearing any shoes. It takes guts to walk down those streets without any footwear.

All things said I felt absolutely horrid for cutting away at such durable fabric still in good condition. Someone ought to hang me outside and punish me with the whole world watching so the lesson could be learned.

"Ahhh, there she goes again, being all depressed about a little clothing accident. I swear, the girl always gets like this when it involves clothes." Prima sighed, explaining everything to the room's guest. "She treats fabric as if it's a celestial object and she's not worthy to even hold it. Seriously…"

"Prima, please," I snapped at her _and_ her word choices. "Don't scare away the guest."

"I think you're already doing a good job on that."

Truly, it did look like the boy was looking at me like I had two heads or something. His blue eyes were wide, taking all of the drama in with that deer-caught-in-the-light posture. I pretty sure even if I started heading towards him with my scissor again, he wouldn't be able to budge from the spot. How cute.

Well, again looking at him, he did have a cute look on him if you looked past the filth. Something inside of me swelled, my thoughts swirling with idea after idea…

"Hey, Prima, don't you think he'll do wonders as a model for our works?" The words already left my mouth before I realized I said them. Both of them looked at me as if I'd grown _four_ heads, but Prima recovered quick enough to return my look with an equally calculating face. She started mumbling under her breath but I can guarantee her words had to do with future clothes ideas. Now our guest definitely had a look of sheer horror on his face and was now making his way to the door. "You can't leave!"'

He flinched, turning around to face me. By the time he fully turned my way, I made it to him, grabbing his arms and bringing his face next to my face, probably a little too close for comfort.

"You should stay! We'll pay you for your troubles, I can promise you that! You can't even stay here if you have no place to go!" I know I saw his eyes weakening after saying that. "Please don't go! At least stay long enough for me to fix up a new attire for you!"

With that, he gave up, head slumping to his chest in defeat.

I think it's safe to say our humble tailor shop welcomed a newcomer – Oliver. Our next order of business with him would be getting him to the shower, ASAP.

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**A/N: ** So begins another fanfiction from me. Yah! (Not.) It's a Vocaloid fanfiction, too! Woot! (Yeah, yeah.) Let's see if I can keep up with this along with the other stuff I'm juggling around. A bit of an awkward start, I believe, but we're on our way, I think. I'm thinking of the plot as we go so that's probably one of the reasons why I'm thinking this is so weird. I have an inkling about the ending, which will hopefully come around or after a little over thirty chapters, so I can take comfort in that. The schedule for uploading this will be different than my schedule for my other fanfic **It Matters**, but it'll be uploaded again this week, I assure.

Until next time, _ja mate ne_!


	2. Chapter 2

Work started _immediately_. I wanted Oliver to look as fabulously as I can make him be.

"Ouch! Not so tight!"

It wasn't working really well.

"You know Aria, it'd probably help if you'd stop squeezing the life out of him. Heavens know why you'd want to measure his waist seven times." Prima spoke with a bored tone, looking over her calipers as she worked on one of her pieces. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her – considering she wouldn't be able to see me, and I live for attention – and instead went on to release my grip around the measuring tape I had. Oliver made it no secret of his relief, heaving a large sigh followed by an exaggerated intake of breathe. Can you blame me for hitting the sucker on his back for his behavior?

"Would you quit hurting me?" He wailed.

"Hey, you're living under our roof and this is the thanks I get?"

"Thanks _I_ get."

"Okay, Prima, dually noticed, but he should be helping us out with the measurements without complaints."

"Well, try not to suffocate me then!" His cheeks puffed up, and with squinted eyes, he attempted to look angry at me. Attempt being the keyword here, because if he thought he was intimidating me, he was dead wrong. He was just making himself look even cuter in my eyes, as if that was possible.

"Oh, what would happen if you were wearing a maid's outfit with that look…"

Oops, did I say that out? I think I did. Oliver suddenly looked terrified to see me.

"We won't be promoting drag fittings if he doesn't want." Bam. Just like that Prima demolished my thoughts.

"You, ma'am, are no fun at all." And I left it at that, instead turning my attention back to my charts of my newest project.

"Don't forget to calibrate the measurements."

"Yes, ma'am." As I went to work doing just that, after the sarcastic response to my boss, my eyes shifted from time to time over to Oliver, who fidgeted in place. God forbid what… "Quit messing around with the tunic! You're gonna ruin it!"

He yelped, hands letting the calico printed cloth go. "It's itchy!"

"Get over it!"

Before I could get another word out of him, the bell next to the front door chimed, announcing the arrival of a potential customer.

"Prima, baby!"

Or not. I cringed at the statement my eyes on Oliver and away from the guest who shall remain nameless.

"Hello, Cul. Welcome back." Dang it, Prima!

"Heya, I came to look up on my favorite clothes store!" My least favorite red head strode around the limited space in the middle of the store, between shelves stacked high with handmade clothes. She walked around the mannequins set up around before making her way towards _my_ workspace, looking like she didn't know I was here. "Morning, IA! How ya doing?"

Oh, how I cringed. I do not like putting up with this time of **annoying** mingling with this monster of a person. The last time she was in the store, she nearly tore apart a collection of my finest, finished works. Understandably, though Prima cut me no sort of slack at all, I fell into a slight depression, unable to believe my work nearly got tossed to the trash. When it came to Cul – I'd like to refer to her as She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named – the less attention one gave her, the more likely she'll leave the store in boredom. Such were my tactics whenever I was forced to tend to her because my heartless boss left me alone in the shop for the day to do… whatever Prima does.

In this one occasion, though, it probably wasn't too wise of a move to leave her to her doings. When she obviously didn't get a reaction – and a hint – from me, red eyes trained on the newcomer.

"Hello, and who might you be?" The foreboding curiosity was _thick_ in her voice. Inner alarms demanded I put a stop to whatever impeding interest sprouted from Cul's little mind.

"Okay, break it up!" I placed myself in between the two. She backed away from my sudden movement with evident surprise. The force of which I threw myself in not only managed to shock her…

…but also managed to push back Oliver.

With a –really—girlish kind of scream, he fell back in a mess of limbs. His arms were under him, legs tingled, the fabric not helping in making the mesh better. Actually, now that I thought about it, my looking over him reminding me, he wasn't wearing any pants. His fall managed to bring the tunic up to his waist, and giving full view of his…

Oh, my God, I think I'm getting a nose bleed.

A low whistle came from behind me. "Now that's a nice ass."

Oliver's face brightens into a newfound shade of red, his hands immediately working to righting the disarray the clothes were in. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I felt sorry for the boy, and I should say otherwise, but before the feeling could even be acknowledge, I felt a familiar grips of anger flashing inside of me.

"Cul, you perv!" Please, completely ignore the blood trickling down my nose. "That's it! I'm sending you out of the store for sexual harassment!"

"Me! You should really look in a mirror. Hurry off before your blood stains any of the clothes here."

That. Did. It. I jumped on her with the intent to straggle her before I felt a strong grip grasp the back of my neck; likewise, a strong arm latched onto the back of Cul's coat.

"Ladies, if you are going to start a fight in here," Prima's sweet voice entered ominously in our ears, "I fight I did not start, by the way, then you two are better off outside with the mongrels."

Long story short, Prima bashed us both aside the head. At least Cul got her just desserts. Oliver stood in the sidelines, fidgeting in obvious embarrassment for the previous activities, pointedly keeping his eyes away from us.

"Cul, if you're not here to browse, I'll have to request for you to leave. It's not good if a customer comes in and caught sight of this mess." The boss left it at that, turning away from us to return to her work. Against my better wishes, I remained on the floor, sitting on the back of my legs, shifting every few seconds in the awkward position, just mulling over time. Cul, on the other hand, rose from her sitting position, standing up to full height.

"Finally got a reaction of ya, huh?" She gave me a cheeky grin, the kind I wanted to wipe out of her face. I couldn't see why she looked so proud of herself right now. She laughed when she took in my reaction, eyes closing in the bliss of the moment. "Normally, you ignore me like I wasn't here. It makes me feel happy I got something out of you at last." She crouched down back to my height, her grin lessening to a smile. "Think you can talk to me like that more often? I'd appreciate it."

Okay, I have a smart comeback for this, I honest to God do. Actually, I think it's better if I stay quiet. I'm supposed to ignore her. But for once, instead of having a throttling comment at the ready, my mind choose _that_ moment to blank out, to process what she just said to me.

Gosh darn it, it felt good to be talked to. Ever since I got here a few weeks back not a one has spoken to me in a friendly tone like that, save Prima. I felt, what was the word…

"Quit flattering yourself." I huffed looking away. It was all in the effort of hiding the blush quickly forming on my face – and the tears threatening to spill.

Again, I heard Cul giggle behind me, before she said, "All right, then, as long as you get the hint. I got somewhere to be, so maybe we can hang out tomorrow. …Maybe even with that cute boy over there."

"Get out!" The impish redhead left with a bark of laughter, the clinking of bells punctuating her departure. I sat steaming a little bit longer, not noticing Oliver had approached me until he spoke up.

"Are you okay, Aria?"

I looked at him, a kind of soft expression on my face now that the tears were settling away. But just as soon as they went away, a mischievous expression of my own appeared on my face.

"So, when I asked you to get dressed in the garb, you decided to go commando, huh?"

The look on his face was priceless.

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**A/N:** IA had a moment of weakness. I won't be dwelling on crossdressing much since there are enough Shouta comments on Oliver and several other Vocaloid on here. (That won't stop her from trying, though.) Anyway, sentimental chapter. Again it feels awkward. Oh, well. Until next time. _Ja mata ne_!


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh! You look gorgeous!"

"Yes, if you call him wearing a robe gorgeous. Only you would think that Aria."

"Um, can I take this off, please?"

Okay, I'll admit it. Maybe I am a little obsessed in seeing Oliver wear… something with a skirt. But you can't blame me for trying. Besides, this is my first finished project in a while, and I'm feeling pretty darn pleased with myself. The best part – no buttons. Score for me. That's how I see it. The calico print probably fitted someone else better, though, but he still looked good in it.

"Prima dear, it's not just I who wish to see men in drags. Besides, you must agree that Oliver here has a knack for it."

The boy blushed, tomato red, turning away from the conversation.

"I don't know why you have to be so embarrassed. It's not like it's an actual dress. There are guys who proudly wear robes."

"Most people would not automatically assume he's wearing a robe."

With a glare at my mentor, I threw my hands in the air as a silent surrender. "Fine, I'll take it off of him."

Regardless of the less than favorably responses, I have another of my works to concentrate on. I already had the drafts written out so it was a manner of getting Oliver's shy butt to work.

Prima ordered him to get out of his clothes and get dressed in another set of clothes she personally prepared for him. Seriously, how fair is that? _I'm_ the one who wanted him to work here for the sake of my motivation. Still, I want the clothes I make for him to be special, so I'll let it slide while I concentrate on bigger things.

The phone rang then. Since Prima headed to the front to open up the store, the designated answerer shifted to me. Prima would kill me if we missed what could be a potential customer.

"Elegant Threads. How may I help you?"

"_Hello, Prima, this is Clara!_" The woman on the other end spoke in a language I couldn't understand, so I answered intelligently to her cause.

"Huh?"

"_H-Hello? _Oh! Hello!"

"Yes?"

"I-Is this Prima?"

"No, this is her assistant."

"Oh, you must be Aria! I'm sorry, but can you ask Prima if she has prepared a package for a Clara Squall? I'd really appreciate that. Thank you and have a good day!" The phone call ended abruptly there.

I've had my share of weird phone calls, but this one rocketed itself to first. At least I knew what I had to do next. I went up ahead to Prima in the front door to relay the message.

"Oh, that's Clara all right. Yeah, she called me the week before, ordering a tailored suit for her husband. Can you go and deliver the package to her please?"

"_Why_? I was just about to start on a new project."

"You didn't look busy a while ago. The sooner you get this done the sooner you can get back to work."

Apparently that ended the conversation since she gave directions to where the package could be found for deliver. Growling under my breath all the way, package in hand, I saw Oliver lingering by the dressing room, struggling with removing his clothes. I smiled, mischief written all over my face.

"Need some help with that?"

"Huh?" Oliver looked utterly unsure, face reddening as usual. He shied away, retreating as far as he possibly could inside the changing room. "Uh, well, maybe?"

"Great!" With a nice grip on his shoulder, I spun him around, tugging down on the ends of the robe he had lifted, straightening the outfit from behind.

"Um, A-Aria-chan, what are you doing?"

"If we're going outside, you need to look presentable! I've got a pair of shoes that can match the outfit."

"But-!"

"Come on! You got help me carry this! Can't expect a girl to lift this all on her own."

When he wasn't moving fast enough for my liking, I grabbed his wrist, tugging him out of the room. I gave the package to him, going behind him and giving him a good push to the door. Prima laid her eyes on us when we rushed by her, though for her credit I stopped long enough to bid her good-bye and so she could get a word in, if she wanted to.

Which she did. "Whatever floats your boat, Oliver. Just make sure you don't let Aria get out of hand."

Right, Prima. I'll be the one calling the shots here. Because I had a master plan to initiate. Before leaving, I grab hold of a hand knitted sign I developed for advertisement of Prima's store.

"You're going to wear this around your neck, Oliver."

The blond blanched. It's not so hard. Place the sign around your neck like a boy, and advertise for the place which so graciously let gave you shelter. Maybe I'm sounding a little harsh, but at least he didn't protest when I placed it around his neck. I pushed him forward, using the directions placed on the packaging to locate our destination.

I have to be honest, though. The trip was just so much fun. A lot of people turned their heads to look at Oliver with his customized clothes – and by people, I mean girls. Some guys looked at him, too, with half of them asking me (and him) if he was a girl. It was really cute, actually, considering some of their reactions afterwards were hilarious. Still, the results were instantaneous. A great number of people asked me about the shop, so I can call my advertisement a success.

Oliver would disagree with me, but I ignore him when he gets all whiny. It's the best way for everyone.

"Why do you have to do this to me?" He continued to pester me despite what I said. I heaved a sigh all dramatic like.

"You need to work, Oliver, assisting us with whatever we need your help with. Come on, it isn't that bad."

"Yeah, getting your butt groped by a guy isn't bad."

"You should be honored. That means you're wearing the outfit right. Once I finish your special outfit, you'll have girls flocking around you in no time."

The comment was meant as jest, but Oliver didn't look like he enjoyed, more so than usual actually. But the look quickly left his face before I could ponder about it anymore. We had made it to Clara's house too.

She was astounded to see us here so quickly, along with her husband Leon. The man looked aghast to see Oliver while Clara smiled at him with approval and amusement. She told me she would definitely stop by to shop at our place again.

Before we left, Clara's phone rang. When she answered it, she soon told me it was Prima on the phone. I took the call.

"Get your ass back to the store! We have a full house over here!"

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**A/N: **Late update due to a minor scare I had. Nothing big, though. I tried to reassure myself, but my nerves got the best of me. Oh, well. I probably won't update again this week because rereading the finished Chapter 4 left me with a bad aftertaste. I'll be rewriting it for the sake of the proofreading sense I seldomly get. In the meantime, enjoy this rather fast paced chapter. It went a bit fast, but considering the goal in number of chapters I have for this, it has to be. I guess you can consider this a slight filler chapter, but remember: Oliver does have to make a temporary living with the girls. The next chapter will introduce plot-related events, I assure.

Until next time! _Ja mata ne_!


	4. Chapter 4

For the following days, work was coming at the Elegant Threads. Much to the relief of Oliver, he wouldn't be modeling for any of my clothes for a while to come, since my hands were full helping Prima finish up her works. Nothing major, considering they were rather simple pieces. With my skills, I managed to finish them in time to satisfy Prima's needs. Oliver helped out too by delivering stuff, his task changing from model to delivery boy. He didn't mind as long as he didn't stay stuck in the building all day, standing on a stool while keeping a watch for me so I wouldn't push him off balance. Geez, and I only did it once…

Well, I'm not going to complain. It was a good week.

And now rolls in the weekend…

"Sure is quiet." Prima mused from behind her desk, pointing out the obvious like she always does. I rolled my eyes at the comment. I had bigger fish to fry. "Sure could use some entertainment."

"Well, the resident clown isn't here for a moment so you'll have to make do with something else."

"That's not nice calling him that." Giggling, I studied my boss through half-closed lids, clearing amused. She wasn't, and made a clear effort to continue with her work instead of giving me the satisfaction of rattling her. Because I'm such a nice person I decided to give her and myself a break. I stood up, bringing my project with me to get done.

I've been doing that a lot lately, but I really don't like being coped up too long, despite my vocation. I did like being under the sun regardless of what my pale skin told otherwise. Speaking of pale skin, I really should get a tan…

Anyway, I leaned against the wall, keeping clear of the viewing window – Prima jumped me last time about lounging over the view of the merchandise – keeping track of my work. It was uneventful, but I wasn't getting distracted by any of the passerbyers. A first. My long blonde hair, the aforementioned pale skin, and my fashion sense often had heads turning. Guess since it's the weekend _everybody_ is sleepy or with their heads in the clouds.

Now would be a good time to say the peace didn't keep for long. Our resident clown came running around the corner on the right end of the sidewalk looking really winded.

"H-hey, hey, Aria!" He really looked worried.

"What is it, Oliver?" I was interest in what he wanted to say, really I was, but it's hard to put on an excited face when I'm forced to look at the boring beige shirt and pants Prima stitched up from him. Whenever I get around to doing my piece for him, it had to have more than one color…

"Trouble's coming!"

"What kind of trouble?"

"Big trouble!"

"Okay, Oliver, if you don't start making sense, I'm going to start hurting you." Normally, my threat would have scared the crud out of him, but instead he looked utterly frustrated at my responses. Then he _dared_ to lay his hand on my arm, tugging me into the shop. I was screaming outrage in both clear and unintelligible words.

"Watch your mouth, Aria. What's wrong, Oliver?" Oh, so you ask him what's wrong with him but not me? Thanks a lot, Prima.

"There are some people out there who are asking for you, Miss Zenyora."

"People?

"A dark-skinned woman with her group of friends."

Prima's eyes took in a serious look. "Ah, I think I know who you're talking about. Did they bother you?"

Oliver looked away, not answering. His silence answered the question.

"Don't worry. I won't let them bother you anymore. I'll see to that, today in fact. You've done enough work outside today. Please help Aria around the shop." With a little bit of reluctance he settled down in a seat, looking my way. I gave him my sweetest smile. He visibly gulped.

In case you're wondering, I didn't even get the chance to initiate my master plan. Someone came busting into our shop just when I was about to make my move. The nerve.

And what would you know? It was a dark-skinned woman.

"Prima!" The voice couldn't have been louder. She scowled from her place at the door, standing some ways to let two other people coming inside – another woman and a young boy. In terms of outlandishness, the first woman stood out. With caramel hair standing out against her skin tone, she wore a red bodysuit, accented them with smooth boots and gloves. Even without a hint of make-up, she looked lovely enough, but a bit masculine if someone asked for my opinion. "Prima! I want to speak with you!"

"Yes?" My boss's tone was like the one she used whenever she was about to scold me for doing something she deems stupid. The woman didn't appear too happy with the tone.

"You… do realize this store is mine do you?"

"Hmm…" Okay, here's the funny thing about Prima; she is an uber queen of sarcasm. Regardless of whom you were, Prima oftentimes handled people in a degrading manner if she considered them imprudent. Right now, she adopted a look which might make one think she's thinking seriously about something. Right? Wrong. Whenever she did that, prepare to get shut down. "I'm afraid it isn't, Miss Rohou. I remember taking this land from its previous owner quite soundly. I do not know why you're bringing this up again."

The woman growled at the response. "Liar! You scared my father into giving you this property! Every time someone mentions your name, the man turns into a bloody coward!" Oh, so these are issues being thrown around here. A bone to pick with Prima, huh? This'll be fun to watch…

"Now young lady, what happened between your father and I is between the two of us. The point of the matter is this place is mine, and nothing you can do will change the matter."

Very harsh words, Prima. Now Miss Rohou looked about ready to punch her in the face.

"Hey, Lola, just forget about her." The boy who came in with her, a blond whose hair was done up into a ponytail, spoke nervously. "We don't want you to get in anymore trouble with the authorities…" He turned to the other girl with them, a brunette with very long hair dressed entirely in black, for support. She merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Shut up, Len! This bitch's gonna pay! She can't just swoop in and treat my family like crap!" It can be said while I'm one for drama, I do not approve of violence in this sanctuary of clothes. If Prima didn't do something _now_, the store would suffer the consequences.

Prima isn't the boss here for nothing. "Say, Miss Rohou, can I ask you about your… impasse?"

Right there, the woman stopped on the spot, her cheeks actually darkening against the rest of her dark tones.

"Darling, let me put it this way. I don't want to fight. Please think of this exchange as a benefit for your family's enterprise. I can help develop any custom-build designs for you. And… more specifically, I can assist you. Would you like to be more… expressive?"

"I think I like this woman." The previously quiet woman spoke up, looking at Prima amusingly.

"I can help you get what you want if you are willing to help me. Of course, I'll help you first, dearest. What do you say?"

Lola looked thoughtful. "What do you have in mind?"

Prima smiled. Oh, I've seen that look before, you sly fox. Basically, this is the terror that is Zenyora Prima. She has a silver tongue and a complimenting calm demeanor which has helped her out of more situations that she can count. Or so she's told me. After seeing this display, I converted into a believer in her arts.

Looking rather proud, Prima puffed out her chest, hands lingering on her hips before speaking. "How about a change of wardrobe to flatter that darling figure of yours?"

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**A/N:** For all my complaints (nearly three weeks ago!), I barely touched this chapter. I still feel a little awkward with this chapter but in the end I let it go because I decided I could make it work. There's a lot about Prima I'll be touching upon, that's for sure.

Thank you for reading. _Ja mata ne_!


	5. Chapter 5

Just when I thought we would have a break, the shop got busy again. Actually, this is actually a good thing.

Thanks to Prima's sweet talking we have three additional people keeping us company. Lola Rohou remained in the store, standing by the boss's side for whatever reason. I couldn't bring myself to care. Not when I had my favorite model back on the job.

"You know, Oliver, I have this crazy idea of an outfit I want to try out on you." Instead of looking excited, Oliver slumped forward with a depressed miserable expression. I slapped him on the side. "Oi! Be honored! I'm trying to make up ideas for your ultimate outfit!"

"Did you just say make-up?"

The voice made us both in place. No, the speaker was not behind me or any cliché stuff like that. She was right behind Oliver, a whole head taller than _me_, towering over the shorter boy. Her dark hair, coupled with her dark attire, made her out as an imposing figure. A really awesome looking figure. If we could be friends that would be just fabulous, considering how fashionable she appeared. My work would be marvelous with her help.

"Got a name?"

"Mew."

"For real?"

"Got a problem?" I could tell she wasn't insulted in anyway, though. One eye closed, the other held a tinkle of mischievousness, her lips quirked into a smirk. Yeah, we were going to get along just fine.

"I didn't say anything about make-up, but if you got any noteworthy tips about how to dress this guy up, I'm all ears."

Mew drew closer, hand under her chin as she studied Oliver. And for once, I don't blame him for being so nervous. I'd be squirming under that intense gaze, too.

"Please don't say anything black…" I heard him mutter under his breath.

"Black would look good on you, though."

Everyone turned to look at the speaker. The blond finally spoke up again since before his boss split to go work with mine. Like his other partner, he had a thoughtful expression on his face. Since he seemed to be keeping himself busy studying Oliver, I took the time to inspect his attire. And what a great outfit it was. It went so well with his _hair_.

"Don't you think you're wearing too much black?"

His inspection was disrupted, his surprised eyes tearing away from Oliver to me. I smirked, giving him another once over. "Such brilliant hair, and you hide behind all those dark colors. Granted, it makes you look good, but maybe you should switch over to a more soothing color. Maybe blue, or purple…"

"No." He sharply interjected. "Anything but that." He gritted his teeth glaring at me. "What would you know? You're wearing black too, with that white ash hair."

With a deep breathe, I returned the glare, full throttle. This guy just dropped on my fav list. "Excuse me; I didn't mean that in a belittling sort of way. I was just trying to critique your fashion sense, you jerk."

The two of us glared at each other for who knows how long until Mew interrupted the contest with a comment. "Well, Len, it seems you found yourself a new partner."

The boy's eyes tore away, face flushed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing." She purposely looked away, winking at me in a certain way. I grinned.

Len threw his hands in the air. "Whatever." He walked over to Oliver, hand on his shoulder. "One things for sure; if you're in the hands of this girl, you're going to need all the help you can get."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I rushed him, slamming up against him and pushing him back quite a bit. He nearly fell over a table of quilts conveniently placed on the other side. When he settled his posture, he renewed his glaring. With a smirk, I flipped my head to him. His affronted gasp was music to my ears.

Oliver looked like a monkey in a circle – seriously. His eyes shifted from me, to the Mew and Len the Jerk, to Prima and Lola over at the corner, then back at me. It filled me up with some sort of… pride, I guess, that he looked at me after everyone else. Made me feel special somehow. It's like he is counting on me for something. I might as well be the link between him and being the most fashionable he can be, because if it were to this guy over here, Oliver's style would lay in ruins, I say!

"I need to continue working on my other pieces. Oliver, I'll need your help for modeling."

The boy nodded and made his way to follow as I headed on back. Much to my chagrin, Len followed along.

"Don't you have something to do?"

He merely lifted an eyebrow. "In case you haven't noticed, my boss's busy at the moment."

"Then leave."

"I don't wanna."

"That's – arghh!" I actually screamed out loud at that. If I was in the boy's place and someone just pissed the hell out of me, I'd be avoiding them as much as it was humanly possible. The urge to hit him was too great, but of course, Prima would have my neck if I started a scuffle here.

Blondie clearly saw how much he infuriated me. That smirk said it all. "Anyway… Oliver, was it?" He turned to the boy, catching him by surprise. "Do you have any say in your clothing designs? You must have a favorite color or style you like."

Oliver tripped over his words; looking at Len with an expression not to different from the one he gave Prima and me on the first day. "Well, I couldn't care less."

Everything went silent. Or at least, my surroundings seemed quiet compared to the rage building up inside of me. For real, this time, I will strangle someone, if not Oliver the boy himself, for that blasted comment.

"Oh, boy…" Mew murmured unhappily behind me.

The only one who didn't seem effected by Oliver's less-than-intelligent words was Blondie. Instead he had the galls to _chuckle_, hand lifting to cover his mouth. Seriously? Old school much?

"I'll take that as a no. Well, now's a great a time as any to find out what fits and what doesn't. Oi, you, bleached girl."

Now, I don't think this will come as a surprise to you at my reaction to that. (And yes, I made sure to look around and make sure he wasn't referring to me.)

"What the hell?"

He ignored my outburst. "You've got some notes on this guy's measurements, I hope? I'm gonna need some tips to work with him." He fingered the same fabrics lying nearby, a certain kind of glint on his face. I recognized it – my anger simmering down when I did. It was the same ambition kind of looks anyone in the tailoring business got when they were motivated. The last time I saw that look, it was on Prima when she was designing the tailor suit for her brother Tonio on his birthday.

Recently, I've barely felt the hints of it. Guess what now? I'm not going to let a blond wannabe outshine me in my turf. If he wants to see Oliver in a great outfit, he's going to see him in one.


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I can't. I'll… just…"

"If you love me, you'll do it."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that…"

"Oh, dear Lord, Aria. I'm just going to say this one more time." Prima slammed her hands on her desk for emphasize. She was serious this time, and not even my puppy eyes could talk her out of her fury. "I better see some sketches, at least, for a design with this fabric, or so help…" She shook her fist in the air, dropping her hand a moment later and heading back to get her purse. "I'll be out for the afternoon. So you'll close the shop in the evening _and_ cook tonight." I think she was enjoying the look of horror on my face.

"I can't cook worth crap."

"Not my problem. It'll be my problem if I don't see something on my plate tonight. Oliver! Have a good day!" The boy waved from the other end of the room.

"What about me?" I didn't expect an answer nor did I receive it. Prima went ahead and left the shop. I couldn't resist a sigh. Instead of getting to work, like I obviously should be, I collapsed onto the sofa in the back of the store.

"You're going to get into trouble." Oliver was so kind to remind me.

"I know, but I already have something heavy on my plate, and she had to add that into the whole mess. I mean, have you tried my cooking?"

I heard Oliver hummed lowly in amusement, taking the sound as his yes. I stayed there sprawled, looking at the ceiling. It's a habit, really, but I have a habit to move my mouth around like if I was speaking softly. Maybe I was counting, or maybe not, but my eyes traced over the bumps of the wall overhead. Trust me; not a lot of time goes by when I do this. I got bored quick.

"Okay, okay, I'm going to work." I had no real idea of what to do, though, but at this point, when Prima has a business deal on the horizon, she wanted everyone to put the pedal to the medal. Oliver didn't make clothes, but as the only one not held back by stitching or sewing, he was prime candidate for lugging around the stocks and materials. Whenever he wasn't doing that, he'd serve tea, because God knows Prima needs that to function properly and see the end of the day.

And me? Well, I usually just hovered. I'm happy for Prima, I really am, but my gusto hasn't returned full serve. Something's missing. I searched my memories of past sewing for something that stuck out. You know, something which pushed me into making better clothes.

That's when an idea struck me. I was sitting up on the chair so quickly, I didn't know what hit me. Oliver must have jump in surprise at the sudden movement – I heard something bang against a surface, a cry of pain following after.

The only thing I have to say against the boy doing all of dirty work in the back was that he rearranges our stuff. In a totally different way than I normally put my things together, at that. It took a while, but I eventually located the box I was looking for.

My memories… The laps have been untouched for the last year – that's how long I've been with Prima. I haven't unpacked much from all the stuff I brought from home. Considering excited I was when I first arrived here, I pretty much just discarded any thought of… well, materialistic need aside. Yes, I'm paid, but that was nothing when put side to side to my creative inspiration in the beginning. Now, my mild depression kind of overrides everything.

Thinking can actually be a good thing. Oh, wait, let me rephrase that: Daydreaming is fun. I have a tendency to do that a lot.

Both flaps lay open before me. Among the wrapped packages I found a periwinkle coat. All the memories came rushing in, my hands feeling the smooth fabric. Come to think of it, this is the same material as…

Well, it wasn't much of a plan, but I think I finally had something to go by.

"Oliver, front and center."

The blond rushed to my side quicker than I can say 'Boy Disliked the Classroom'. "What's up?"

"You're what's up. Change into your measuring clothes." Technically, he didn't need to change, but I can't stand seeing him in clothes Prima gave to him from her reject corner. It sounds bad, I know; it's not as bad as it sounds, though. The clothes are so good for rejects, it hurts. I could lend him some of mine, but it just didn't seem right. Neither does this, yet I can't help going gaga over it.

He came back in the white uniform, stool in hand. By the time I've gathering my measuring tape, he was already standing overhead.

"You seem kind of tense today, Aria." I paused from wrapping the tape around him.

"Do I, now?"

"Uh-huh. You haven't bothered me all day today." His hand slapped over his mouth after the words.

"Huh…" I ignored the quivering now coming from his body, instead leaving him alone so I could bring a pen, paper, and clipboard I failed to bring earlier. There haven't been much change from his usual lengths. The purpose for doing taking notes came from the fate of my future project.

"I didn't mean to say that!" He attempted to amend.

"I think I know what you meant with that. Not that I care. I'm fully aware I'm not myself today." I relented, turning away from him to settle the board on the floor and take up the tape again. Zipping through the other necessary measurements, I returned to my work table after telling him to go.

He came back, pulling up a chair from the back and placing it near my desk. He settled down, watching as my hands flew around sketching out a rough sketch of Oliver and what I intended to make.

"So what are you doing?" He tried to peer over my shoulder, but I scooted away.

"You'll see it when I finish it." He pouted, returning to his seat. We spent the following minutes in silence – while, kind of, since my pencil was doing a little dance on the pages, and occasionally I searched for something or another in my drawers.

I learned neither one of us deal with silence very well. Surprisingly, Oliver broke the silence first.

"You know, the reason why I came here is because I've always wanted to try out the parfaits this city's known for."

It's kind of nice hearing the small talk coming from him. "The parfait's?"

"Yeah, Sherbet's known for its treats, no?" He leaned back, his gaze on the same place I stared upon not too long ago. "Mother and I used to stuff our mouths filled with all kinds of treats. She's a darn good cook, too. Owns a bakery."

I made a small noise to let him know I was listening.

"She makes all kinds of different pastries, as one would expect. The end of the days – I always looked forward to them, because those where the times I got to bite down on the leftover breads and cookies. Her food is the best, but Mother always insisted otherwise. You see, she could never get her hands on frozen treats. It became a hit where I'm from. One day, one of my friends invited me to… She brought a bowl of frozen yogurt, told me she was too full, and let me have it. I fell in love."

"With the girl?"

He glared at the weird look I sent him, though I was just pulling his leg. "The yogurt. It was delicious. And I told myself I'd have more, and to share the moment with my mother."

A question was just begging to be asked here, but for once, I bit my tongue. Instead I fixed my intent gaze to the fabric Prima left for me, mind scrolling through procedures to take. For the sake of passing the time, though, I said one more thing. "Well, Oliver, do you plan to be a baker?"

"No, I plan to be a warlord."


	7. Chapter 7

Least to say, Oliver's reply left me kind of baffled. His mother sounded like a nice person, and even though he didn't go to much detail, his life appeared to be just fine. You can't judge a book by its cover, I learn.

Well, on the plus side, he had to be my personal slave – I mean assistant, so I promptly punished him for leaving me in the dark like that. Granted, I didn't push for any more details, not that I wanted to know. If he wanted me to know, he'd have said something by now.

Needless to say, I only managed to finish with one project since that day, and it was by the skin of my teeth. Prima nearly killed me when she came back the other night and saw nothing done. Despite managing to uplift my spirits a little, I only had enough motivation to finish that one project and it was during a week's time.

At least I managed to finish it one time for the carnival.

"The… carnival?" My groan was unmistakable. Whatever early attempts I tried to make to my work was halted, my head resting down over the fabric of corduroy I planned to work my magic on… planned.

"This is good moment to increase business even more than we're already going to receive." Prima inserted from her end.

I did not feel safe with her lack of reaction to my attitude. Plus she confused me with what she said. "Hold it. Didn't you already negotiate something with Li'l Miss Rohou? I know these times tend to be one of those busy periods, but don't take on more than you can chew."

My reward for caring? A slap across the head. "We can never have enough advertisement. We need to spread the word about our lovely works of arts."

"But do the gypsies really need more clothes?" I struck a nerve; she visibly twitched and looked caught between ideas of how to finish me off. Course that's what she wanted, though. Outside folks were always the best targets for this sort of business since they brought our clothes with them where others could see, thus bringing in more visitors and customers. One could even say business like this was one of many reasons a city would flourish. Aren't I proud of being a part of this? "I'm just letting you know right now I'm not taking part of this."

She gave me a flat look. "You are not going to be ditching me because you don't want to get anywhere near the fair all right. Its moment like these you can tell you're from the country. It's not that loud and there's not that much people around."

She LIES. Regardless of how small the city is, several folks here enjoy a good ruckus. The carnival was a great time to enjoy oneself… I suppose. I rather spend my time someplace quiet. Unfortunately, that's too much to ask at this point.

"So a carnival's coming?" Oliver entered the room, still dressed in some pajamas… that Prima made for him. Ugh.

"Yes. As an employee here, you'll be required to accompany Aria to promote her clothing articles."

"I don't have anything to broadcast."

"Of course you do. Oliver showed me the lovely project you finished." Oh, that sly smile on Prima's face.

My gaze turned over into glare. Was the blond the target of it? No. As much as I wanted to wail on him, this is Prima's shop. All in the store could not escape her omnipresent gaze. "It's just that one."

"But it still something. I'm not letting you stay home this time. You can't always be confined to the store, Aria."

But the problem with leaving the store is the noise and all the people I never knew lived (or visited) the city. The various carnival booths made home in several of the weaving streets. However, to be part of the bigger picture, one needed to stay in the center of Sherbet. The excitement escalated past charted levels here – where our shop also happens to be located.

And even with all of her bragging, Prima set up the outside transmission RIGHT NEXTTO THE STORE. Bad enough we're in the nosiest part of the festival. Goodness...

"Hey, Aria…" Oliver reverted to his shy old self now that we were outside. It could be because of all these people. Maybe it had to do with the new blue coat he was wearing. Dear Lord, but he looked so good with it. I'm not speaking for myself, since I don't like wearing blue if I can help it, but Oliver looks gorgeous in dark blue. It just seemed to bring out best of his features.

He's such an attention grabber now, a number of female gypsies – both young and slightly older – gathered around to talk to him. His face turns red, and he starts stuttering like crazy. Aww, I guess he's not used to being the center of female attention.

Some of the girls tried to coax him to dance with them, which met them with more stammering. He sent a pleading look to me, to which I just shrugged.

"Take him away, ladies." I don't know if they understood me, but I translated their happy squeals to be a "YES!". As for Oliver, he merely held his hand out futilely in my direction as the girls forcefully dragged him to the center plaza.

I wasn't doing this to be evil, I promise. (Mostly.) If Prima was going to make me advertise for the store, I will. Oliver would be front and center, where all eyes coming in and out of the plaza can see him. His jacket is gorgeous, and with him looking so fabulous already, it's a sure thing.

(It's the perfect excuse for torturing him! Uh, I mean-)

Just as planned, the plaza soon filled up with more people. I shifted uncomfortably as small group of women soon huddled in front the stand giggling over the clothes articles. Mostly though, they just gawked at Oliver. All said and done, I managed to do some sales. I think we can call this a success.

The eve of the carnival soon dawned on us. They wouldn't be leaving yet, but this first day was done and I managed to do some sales. Now all I can ask is for the day to end well…

"Ia!"

It was too much to ask. I actually dropped what I was attempting to pick and store away (since Prima gave orders to close shop at evening) as I slumped over in sudden depression at hearing that _voice_.

"Hey, you're here, too?" She-who-shall-not-be-named walked up to the stall, a cotton candy in hand and dressed up in a gorgeous red dress she purchased from the shop (that Prima designed). "How's it going? Hey, where's Oliver?"

I growled. "Are you just going to ask questions?"

She stopped looking around and gave me a smile – ugh. "Sorry about that. I guess I'm just excited. I've seen so many familiar faces today, and with yours added into it… I don't know. By the way, saw some chicks walking down the streets with merchandise from the shop. Great going!"

With a groan, I resigned to listening to her go on and on about things I didn't give two cents about. Then, a chorus of squeals emerged from the central plaza, which still hasn't lessen in quantity of folks.

"Hey, what's going on over there?" Ignoring the redhead, I stood on the tips of my toes to get a better look. All I saw was a brunet standing in the midst of female gypsies and residents of Sherbet alike, clearing the cause for the swoons from them.

"Just some guy." I answered despite myself.

"Okay, what kind of guy does THAT?" she emphasized pointing in their direction. She has a point.

"All right, he's a good looking guy."

"Now we're getting somewhere." She clasped her hands together as much as she could with the carnival goods she was carrying. Turns out she didn't need to do anything.

The tight gathering of women split as the brunet with olive skin made his way out. In itself, this alone wouldn't have turned my head. What caught my attention was Oliver, walking next to the guy like he knows him. His face was the brightest I've ever seen, like he was talking to his best friend.

You know, I felt a little happy for the guy.

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**A/N:** I failed to confirm this in the last chapter. Although there are hints of it, the name of the city IA and Oliver currently inhabit is called Sherbet. Not creative, I know, but I wanted it to be simple.

Thank you for reading. _Ja mata ne_!


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